Hormonal Horndog
by amberpire
Summary: My name is Carly Shay and I'm a sixteen-year-old-maybe-gay and I am so sexually frustrated I could scream. ;Carly/Sam;


"_Sam_." I'm moaning, my fingers twisting in the sheets beneath me and my back is arching like I'm trying to levitate. Sam feels so warm as she slides down my midsection, her tongue leaving a wet, hot trail of goosebumps behind it and my hips are about to fly off they're bucking so hard. Things are moving fast and my vision is fuzzy, clinging to the bed like if I don't I'll fly away and Sam's keeping me grounded as she teases my pants with her teeth and God, wouldn't it be embarrassing if I just creamed without her even getting my _pants_ off? "Sam," I say again, only it's more urgent now, because I need her to touch me, I need her to do something before I burst into flames and I look down at her, blonde head bobbing over my pants, hands on either side of me. Her blue eyes flick up at me and she suddenly looks confused. "Sam," I repeat, lifting my hips again like I'm offering them to her or something and she looks even more confused, sitting up a little bit.

"Carly," she says and I feel a nudge in my shoulder. I shake it off and try to raise my hands so I can pick at the button of my jeans because I want them off and I want her between my legs _now_ but my hands won't move, I'm just clinging to the sheets. "Wake up, Carly," she says, still confused, and her voice is tired and groggy and far away and another nudge slams into my shoulder. I don't even know what she's talking about, what the hell does she mean, 'wake up?' I've never been more awake.

"Please, Sam." I'm begging now, because I've been waiting for this since I was thirteen and I just need her to touch me, just for a minute, and I swear it would be enough.

"Carls, hey!"

The shove to my shoulder makes my whole body jolt and my eyes fly open and just like that, in just a split second it's all gone. I'm in my pajamas. I'm in my bed. I'm staring at the white ceiling above me and Sam is punching my shoulder.

"Wake up and stop saying my name."

I turn and look at her, blue eyes squinting at me through the dim light of my room and even with eye boogers caked in her eyes and her wild blonde hair sticking up in every direction and her breath that I can smell from this short distance smelling rancid and disgusting, the only thing I want to do right now – the only thing I've wanted to do for years now is to roll over and kiss her.

"Sorry," I say, shifting my legs and blushing madly at the wetness between them. Jesus freaking Christ. Sam collapses back into her pillow and I know she's asleep almost as soon as her eyes close, but I remain stiff and quiet for a long time, just listening to her smooth breathing. The dream is still there, hanging on the edges of my mind, clear and real – Sam hovering over my withering hips. Sam about to get into them. Me crying out for her.

My name is Carly Shay and I'm a sixteen-year-old-maybe-gay and I am so sexually frustrated I could scream.

* * *

I hook my arms around my raised knees and cradle my chin on them, gazing out over the Pacific. I really do love the beach, even though I refuse to tan. I turn into a lobster for a week, peel, and go right back to looking like Casper. Sam, though, she's always got this nice, bronzey tone to her skin, even in the winter. It fascinates me, really.

Speaking of Sam, I'm watching her walk toward me with one drink in each hand. She's wearing boy trunks and a bikini top and the way she can own that so well amazes me. Her hair is up, sunglasses on, and her body moves like she's always about to dance or something. Maybe I love coming to the beach is because I get to see a lot of Sam without feeling creepy.

"Here you go, Cupcake, your lady drink." She plops beside me on the towel and passes over a glass bottle of tea for me. I take it and smile my thanks at her. I sip at it daintily while Sam chugs her root beer.

I study her in silence for a long time. We've been friends for so long, I know every inch on her face. I know the way every muscle moves. I know her every expression and every noise. And it sounds weird and obsessive, but I could never get tired of any of them. They're as much a part of me as they are her.

It's hot. I shift a little bit and let my legs extend, feet brushing the warm, brown sand and leaning back on my elbows. I can't not look at Sam, even with the dark blue waves crashing on the shore a few feet in front of us that bring tourists from all over the world. It's the same color as Sam's eyes, actually, only her eyes are much better; clearer, sweeter, prettier. I can't see them now but there's a whole lot of Sam I can see and I let my eyes swallow up what little I can see of her hip bones that those trunks can't quite hide and up over the white bikini top that makes everything look perfect and up higher at the neck I never get to see because Sam's hair is always down and I could just drown in the sight of her.

"Carly, did you put any sunblock on? You're going to scald."

I blink myself away from my less-than-innocent thoughts and watch her watching me, turning away quickly. "Not yet." I sigh and twist around, reaching for it, but Sam's hand is already curling around the bottle.

"I'll do it," she says, shifting to her knees. The bottle squirts loudly into her hand and she rubs the white liquid in her palms. She pauses, raising her blonde eyebrows over her glasses. "Well? Sit up."

I push myself up and the minute her hands smooth over my back I'm wet almost instantly. I close my eyes to try and block the sensations out; Sam's hot hands roaming slickly over every inch of my exposed upper body, curling over my shoulders and sliding down my arms and running up them again to slide over my neck. Good God. Sam has no idea what she's doing to me and I am so turned on right now I'm all but screaming at my hormones to go away.

She finally moves away but I'm still shaking, glancing at her again. I don't remember how it started, really. There was no truth-or-dare kiss we had to do and we never went streaking and accidentally touched boobs or anything like that – I just had a dream one day when I was thirteen and I never knew girls could have sex dreams before but I woke up with an ache I couldn't describe between my legs and stuffing my hand into it and crying out Sam's name –

It's perverted, really. She's my best friend and I've been oogling over her for years. It's wrong. It's not because she's a girl, it's just because she's Sam. She's Sam and people don't have sexual fantasies about their best friends.

Well, Freddie does about me, but that's different. He's a boy. He's supposed to. I'm a girl and Sam's a girl and she's my best friend and I shouldn't feel that way about her. Any other girl I wouldn't have a problem with. Anyone else. But it's Sam. Of course it's Sam. Because everything has to become difficult for me.

Sam brings me out of my thoughts by abruptly standing, tugging her trunks up as she steps off the towel and into the sand. "Well, come on then. Let's swim." She reaches down and grabs my hand, ripping me to my feet with surprising strength for her lithe body. I laugh and she's grinning at me, tossing off her sunglasses and tugging me to the ocean. It's freezing and brilliant and Sam's the kind of person to get wet right away, turning toward me with a mischievous grin.

"Don't you even think about it, Puckett."

"What? You don't trust me?" She grins and sways toward me, knee-deep in the saltwater and moving closer to me. The sun makes her hair come alive in bright gold, shimmering against her bronze skin. Jesus. "I would never even think about dunking you in the water, nope, not me, not sweet little Sam, I would never –" And then she grabs me by the waist and I only have time to gasp at her warm hands pulling me close and then she falls backwards and then it's just water, freezing cold and I hold on to Sam's arms and she's still holding my waist. My eyes are screwed shut but I can feel her beneath me and it feels good, it feels really good, because in this space between the bottom of the ocean and the top, it's just Sam and I, and it's quiet and cold, and I can feel her. I can feel her everywhere.

Sam brings me to the surface, laughing at me, and I sputter water out of my mouth and fling my hair back, glaring at her but there's no anger in my eyes because this is Sam. She pouts innocently at me, tilting her head as she pushes through the water. Her arms wrap around me again and thank God Sam is a touchy-feely kind of friend because it's these short, spare moments when she holds me that keep me from going insane.

"I'm sorry," she coos, still pouting, lower lip thrust out and really, I just want to bit it or lick or, Jesus, I would suck on it if I had the balls. "Forgive me?" And the way she says it, all deep and pretty like that, like if I didn't she wouldn't live or something, I'm all but melting in that cold water, in her arms, and without thinking my legs just life and wrap around her waist. She doesn't even blink, doesn't even seem surprised, and I just nod, and then she dunks me again; cold saltwater and waves of golden hair.

* * *

Because there's no way I'll ever get physical with my best friend, I've been quenching my desires with lots and lots of porn. Thank God Spencer is totally oblivious and never checks my computer, and thank God my password is asparagus and I hate asparagus because if anyone checked my laptop they would think I have an addiction. I have a ton of it and I don't even like most of it. It's all fake. The moans are fake, the faces are fake, and I don't care who you are, no one likes a long, curved talon of a nail being shoved in your vagina. But I watch it anyway because it's at least keeping me from doing something drastic like advancing on Sam.

I'm watching one now and it's two Asian girls going at it in what looks like a jungle setting. I don't even remember where I found it. I don't even like it, but sometimes if I close my eyes and listen to the sounds I can pretend it's Sam or something. I'm in the iCarly studio on a bean bag and it's dark and my laptop is glowing and my pupils are small and I'm not even touching myself, I'm just watching this staged crap and thinking about Sam.

I'm afraid I might do something I'll regret later to her, like I'll touch her too long or in the wrong way, I'll try to steal a kiss or something. So I fill my brain with terrible porn because at least this can entertain my imagination a little bit, and I can think about certain … positions later when I'm alone, in bed, and talking to Sam on the phone. Anything to keep me from doing the real thing.

I put my laptop on the floor and close it mid-scene. I sit in the dark for a while, thinking about Sam, my arms folded behind my head. How long can I keep this up? How long can I pretend that I'm not masturbating to my best friend, that I'm not irrevocably in love with her? I'm actually pretty shocked she hasn't picked up on it yet, but we've been friends for so long that everything we do is natural. She knows me better than I do, which is kind of scary in a way, and she knows exactly what to do if I'm upset and she fits in my life more perfectly than anything or anyone else.

It's just a plus that she's absolutely beautiful. Gorgeous. Sexy. She never works out, eats ham and bacon and sausage most of the time, and yet she's as tiny as a stick. I think of a twinkie and I explode. But it's not just her body, it's the way she moves with it, how every gesture is smooth and the way her tan skin flexes and when she holds me I swear the inside of her elbow was made specifically so my head could lay in it. She could be a three hundred pounds and I would still drool all over her because she works it like she owns everything around her and she knows it.

Thinking about Sam like this just puts me in the mood, and I'm alone and it's quiet and dark and I figure it's safe, so I snake a hand under the waistband of my jeans. Jesus, I need to get laid by something with boobs. I close my eyes and try to bring back my latest dream; Sam pinning me to her bedroom floor and fucking my brains out.

God, I sound like a teenage boy.

It's the way Sam smiles at me, the way she insists we spoon when she spends the night because apparently I'm cold all the time, and it's the way she tells me things she would never say to anyone else, how she trusts me with everything and can dunk me in the beach without making me mad. It's just Sam, it's always been Sam.

"Carly-"

I gasp as the lights go up and I tear my hand out of my pants but not in enough time. Sam's standing half in and half out of the studio, her blue eyes wide as she stares at me in silence. My heart crashes and I stand up, stuttering like an idiot and wiping my hands on the front of my jeans like that'll wash away what I was doing and who I was thinking about.

"Were you just getting freaky with yourself?" Sam suddenly grins, raising her hand to laugh behind it. Soon she's doubled over with laughter and I just stand there, my cheeks hot and pink. I don't say anything; just stand there in my embarrassment until she can come to. She straightens, smooths her hair away from her face, and takes a deep breath that ends in a muffled chuckle. "Sorry to interrupt, you hormonal horndog, but you need to make yourself prettier than usual. We're going out."

I stutter again but she only raises her hand to silence me. She turns to leave, the door swinging behind her, but not before she gets a chance to yell through the glass, "Wash your hands first!"

* * *

Sam takes me out a lot to do illegal things, mostly, because I'm too 'goody-two-shoes'. Sam has this issue with the law and anything that can be broken, Sam wants to break. But tonight, she just drives me to a new restaurant in downtown Seattle. Sam has a thing with eating at every food joint she can find, just to try the meat and see if it's any good. The girl is weird about her meat. The restaurant is small and dark, a little fancy for Sam and I, but she's never cared about formalities. We don't say a word until we're sitting across from each other.

"So when did that start?" She finally says, and my cheeks flare up almost immediately which isn't right because I'm never embarrassed with Sam, she's Sam, my best friend, but I am.

I shrug and try to act cool about it, like it's nothing I should be ashamed of. If she only knew. "I don't know. Few years ago."

"Years?" She snorts. "And you never told me about it?"

I snort right back at her as I pick up my menu. "I'm sorry my masturbation habits never came up in our conversations."

Sam laughs and the waitress arrives. Sam orders some kind of meat basket while I get a salad and water. She leans back against the booth seat, studying me in silence. I don't lower my gaze even though her blue eyes are pretty intense even when she's trying to be casual. "What do you think about?"

I cough if just to try and hide the furious blush that consumes the entirety of my face, ducking it somewhat. "Er, I don't know."

"I think about babes," Sam says, her lips pulled into a tight grin. "Hot, hot babes."

"You mean you … ?"

"Get freaky? Sorry to burst your sparkly bubble, Carls, but you're not the only one who has ventured below their belts." She leans forward again, legs swinging under her seat. "All the time."

My water is set before me then and I hold it in both hands, chewing on the straw in silence for a while. Sam chugs her first drink, ignoring the straw, and watches me. "So, you think about … 'babes'."

"That means hot people, Cupcake."

"I know what it means." I frown at her. "Like … boys?"

She presses her lips together for a moment, still studying me like she's expecting to find something I'm not saying. Then she shrugs and takes another long drink of her pop before letting it crash noisily on the table. "Boys. Girls. Hot people."

I choke on my water and stare at her. What did she just say? "You think – you think about girls?"

Sam laughs and shrugs again and if anyone can make questioning sexuality or bisexuality or whatever she is look cool, it's her. "Yeah. Why? That bother you?"

"No! No, no, it's just, you never told me –"

"You never told me about rubbing your vagina."

"Sam." I hiss at her and quickly glance at the people surrounding us. Thankfully, no one seems to have been picking up on the content of our conversation. I relax and lean over the table, whispering. "Your – your sexuality is a little more pressing to tell your best friend than me, me," I lower my voice again, "than me masturbating."

"Do you think about girls?" Sam's face suddenly grows serious and she leans across the table too, using her elbows to lean closer to me.

I freeze, backing up slightly but the closeness is alluring when it's Sam and I just stare at her. I know my face gives it away and Sam's lips crack into a wide grin.

"You do, don't you?"

"I." It's all I can manage.

Sam leans away; smirking at me like she's known this a lot longer than I have or something and our food is planted before us. Sam all but dives into the meat on her plate and I pick at my salad with my fork in silence. My brain is a melting lump of goop at this point. Sam likes _girls_? Am I dreaming? Not that this makes my chances any higher, but still. You'd think that, as I've been sexually obsessed with her for so long now, that I would pick up on her affections for girls.

"So you're bisexual," she says, finally. Half of her food is already gone and I've barely started. I jerk my eyes up at her only to let them fall again. She looks like she's about to laugh at me.

"Maybe."

"Do you like boys?"

"I-" I shrug again and stuff my mouth with salad if only to prolong my answer. When I finally swallow, though, and Sam's tapping the table expectantly, I finally let my shoulders fall in defeat. She's my best friend. "I don't think so."

"No fucking shit." She says it like it's a fact or something and laughs, licking her fingers and I can't help but watch that. God, her lips are perfect. Freaking perfect. "So you're gay, then."

I glance around again and it's a wonder the people next to us haven't thrown bread at us yet. This is hardly public, dinner conversation. "I don't know. Maybe." I raise my eyebrows at her. "What are you? Bisexual?"

Sam shrugs. "I don't like titles."

"Everyone is something."

"Only if you want to be. If I can be something, anything, then I choose to be nothing. I am free of all social labels. How's that for poetry, Miss Shay?" She nods toward my salad. "Are you done? This place sucks, their ham _really_ sucked, and the guy next to us is chewing his food like a fucking cow."

This time, of course this time, the people next to us hear and turn, glaring.

Sam laughs, reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls forth a bunch of bills. She drops them on the table and stands, reaching for my hand. "C'mon, Shay. I've got more interesting things to do."

And I just watch her for a moment, studying her grin and marveling at the way I know it so well. I smile back at her, take her hand, and let her lead me out of the restaurant. I don't even scold her this time for leaving Monopoly money on the table.

* * *

We're at the beach again, only it's dark and deserted and quiet. The waves crash on the shore with a familiar, comforting sound, and my head is cradled on Sam's shoulder. The sand almost looks gray here in the cloudy twilight. The breeze is cold and Sam and I are both shivering in our shorts and tank tops.

"We need to find you a girlfriend," Sam says, lips lost in my hair. I gnaw at my lip and let the words hang there. Man, if she only knew. "Who's your type? Tall, dark, hand- pretty? Redheads? Brunettes?"

"I like blondes," I murmur, and I hope she doesn't notice that I snag a lock of her hair as I say it, twirling it around my finger.

"Okay, blondes. I can find you a blonde."

"I don't want you to find anyone for me." I move away from her and stare out at the ocean and it's beautiful, really, lapping into the sand and pulling out again. A big, black body, full of things we'll never understand.

"Do you already like someone?" She sits up too, watching me, her knees touching mine.

I turn and look at her and I wonder what she sees in my face. "Yeah."

"Who?" Her eyebrows tug down over her nose. "Emily?"

"No."

"Gabrielle?"

"No."

"It's gotta be Stacey."

"I hate Stacey."

"She's blonde."

I snort. "She's not the only blonde in our school."

"So she's blonde." Sam grins. "That narrows it down. Camille, Amy, Lisa."

"No, no, and _hell_ no."

"Barbara."

"She smells like feet. No."

Sam huffs. "There are no other blondes unless you're talking about Mrs. Uton, and I'm sorry, Carls, but she's a bit old for you. By about fifty years."

"You're not thinking hard enough." My heart is pounding again, squeezing so hard it hurts, and I watch in silence as the wheels turn in her blue eyes and her face goes slack for a moment. She sits back a little, leaning on one arm and lifting one to point at her chest.

"You don't – it's not – you like _me_?"

And there it is. Dawning on her. On me. I don't breathe, I don't say anything, and we just stare at each other to the soundtrack of the waves for several long, paralyzing moments. And then I stand and kick off my flip flops and make my way to the sea like I'm going to drown myself in it. I wade through the freezing water up to my knees and shiver, sinking my feet in the sand.

I don't know what to do, what to think, what to expect. This isn't' something people make guides for. Shit happens. Shit happens, and you just have to sit and wait and let it play out. She knows. It's probably the worst decision of my life, but she knows, and it's out there, and it's up to her to do what she wants with it.

"Carly."

I don't move but I know she's right behind me. I can feel her, and then her arms wrap around my waist and her chin is on my shoulder and if this is all I could ever have, this moment, knee-deep in freezing cold water with Sam's chest to my back – if I never had sex with her, if I never kissed her, and I could just have this, it might suffice.

"You're my best friend," she says, like I don't know that, like I haven't thought about that, like I didn't stop to think what my feelings for her might do to our friendship. I know that because of me and my hormones and Sam being Sam, everything about us could fall apart.

I know that. And it's not like I planned for this, things just happen.

I turn around and face my shorter, blonde best friend, and she looks distraught and confused, her hands hesitating as she continues to hold me even though I can see in her eyes she's not sure if she should. I can see her breaking and I ruined it, I just ruined everything.

"I'm not expecting anything, Sam." I try to say it firmly but I can hear how weak it sounds. "I didn't want to say anything."

"How long –"

"Three years."

She blinks in surprise, glancing away and back again. A wave nearly knocks me over and I grip Sam's shoulders. "I don't know what to say … do. I don't –"

"You don't have to say or do anything, Sam." I sigh, drop my hands and try to move around her. I've done enough damage as it is. Maybe I can keep this from being irreparable by walking away now and letting it blow over. But she catches my wrist and pulls me back and she's holding me by my waist again, blue eyes rooting me to the spot.

"Just, let me try something." She takes a deep breath, eyes flicking to my lips, and then.

And then, Sam Puckett kisses me.

Sam Puckett is kissing me.

I'm frozen. I'm frozen and I have no thoughts. It's just Sam's lips molding on mine and I can't feel any part of my body except my lips and how they're warm from hers and she's kissing me, my best friend, Sam, Sam is kissing me, and I half-expect myself to jolt awake now but it keeps going, it keeps happening because this is real and this is happening and Sam. Is. Kissing me.

She pulls away and breathes in and I forget how to for a moment and in the same breath she's moving away, saying, "We should go," and I stand frozen in place for a long time, staring at the saltwater.

And I don't really remember climbing in the car and her driving me home. I know we drove in silence and when she pulled up to my building she didn't say goodbye. I shut the door and she speeds off faster than usual and I stare after her for a long time, hugging my arms.

* * *

It's been two days.

Two days is a long time without Sam. For me, anyway, but I think we've already established that my relationship or whatever you want to call it with Sam isn't exactly normal. Or healthy, for that matter.

I can't stop crying. I'm crying right now, texting her for the billionth time, wiping the tears from my Pear Phone screen. This is stupid. This is ridiculous. She can at least talk to me and not treat me like I raped her or something. _She_ kissed _me_, not the other way around, so if anyone deserves to feel upset or violated or whatever Sam is feeling right now, it should be me. I didn't even tell her, directly, that I like her, love her, want to fuck her, or anything like that – she just happened to guess and I wasn't about to lie to her on top of everything else.

But she could at least freaking call me and not leave me torturing myself with all of the fucked up scenarios that move through my brain. For example, she's never going to talk to me again. She's going to completely forget I ever exist and never even look in my direction for as long as we live and when people ask her about me, she'll say, "Carly who?" and then laugh. Or, this one's even better, she'll spread around the school that I am a creepy weirdo and shouldn't' have any friends and not that I care much about anyone else's opinion but hers, still, the thought of the school turning its back on me isn't one I particularly like the entertain.

That's stupid, though, for me to think about that, because I know she wouldn't do anything like that me. I could strangle her cat and set her house on fire and she'd still treat me like I'm worth something to her. I'm trying to convince myself that she deserves a little time to herself, to register some things. I don't honestly think she'll stop being friends with me, but it might change things. It might, and I never wanted that. I love the way things are and I knew that things would be in jeopardy if and when I ever told her, but now that it's really happening, now that everything we have could shift in a different direction, I'm scared.

I am really, really scared right now.

* * *

Crying makes me really tired and it's pretty early when I crash – only about eight o' clock on a Saturday night in the middle of summer. I don't have a sex dream for once; I'm watching Sam swim in the ocean, farther and farther away until the tide wipes her out of sight and I'm alone standing in the gray sand. And then something is touching my back, something warm, and I squirm a little, mumbling as my eyes open.

"Carly?"

I blink groggily and glance at my clock. I've only been asleep for an hour and my eyes feel like they're a hundred sizes two large, swollen from my crying, and then I'm rolling over and there's Sam, perched on the side of my bed.

"Sam!" I'm certainly alert now, sitting up and flinging my arms around her shoulders and holding her tightly. I expect her to push me away but she holds me just as desperately, one hand holding the back of my head while the other is pressed against my back. "I thought, God, I thought you would never talk to me again."

"That's a little dramatic, Carls."

"You weren't answering my texts or my calls –"

"I needed some time to think, that's all."

I push back, still holding her shoulders, and I notice with a jolt that her eyes look just as swollen as mine. "Oh my God, Sam, are you – were you crying?"

Sam grins weakly and shrugs. "There was a lot on my mind."

I haven't seen Sam cry since she had that job and it was so stressful she collapsed on my couch in a fit of sobs. "Why were you crying?"

"Why were _you_ crying?"

I open my mouth, close it, and shrug. "Because I thought I had messed things up."

Sam laughs. "You? Carly, you could never mess it up. It was me that almost tore everything to shit. The way I acted after I –" She coughs. " – after I kissed you. Like I was angry or something."

"You weren't mad?" I raise my eyebrows at her and she smiles, shaking her head.

"No, just, I don't know, confused. I never thought you'd, you know, dig me, because I'm kind of … lame."

I snort. "Lame? You? Sam, you're the most interesting, awesome person I know."

Sam shrugs again, taking my hands in hers and studying them for a long moment. "Yeah, well."

I bite my lip and watch her and I can't believe she's here, that she came back and she doesn't seem all that bummed about anything. Maybe I didn't fuck things up. Maybe our friendship will go on just like it's always had, and nothing will change. "I'm sorry for any … turmoil, I caused you. We can just forget it, okay?" I stare at her hopefully but she only glances at me in confusion.

"Forget it?" She frowns, shaking her head. "I thought you wanted to … try, try this." She lifts our joined hands like it symbolizes something and I guess it kind of does.

My mouth drops open. "Really? You're serious? You're not joking?"

She laughs and shrugs again. "You're the only person who gets me and my obsession with food and my flirting with the law and all that. It kind of makes sense. Besides." She blushes and I can't believe my eyes, Samantha Puckett is _blushing_, is _embarrassed_ about something, and she looks up at me and smiles, letting go of my hands and moving closer to hover over me. "You're probably the hottest babe I've ever seen."

Any minute, I'm going to wake up and realize this is a dream, a very vivid dream, but it's not, it's real, this is real and I'm not going to wake up because I'm already awake. I can't breathe, it's not that important anyway, and she kisses me, one hand curling around the back of my head as she steers me down on the bed. My chest feels like it's going to explode and my pants are pretty much on fire. I kiss her back and open my lips to taste her and my lungs release this funny kind of moan into her mouth which she obviously approves of, breaking the kiss to grin at me.

"You've been waiting for this for a long time, haven't you?" She's panting, sucking in her lower lip as her hands slide into my shirt. I'm breathing like I just ran a mile and nod because speech isn't really something I'm very capable of at this point. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting," she continues, leaning down again to press her lips to mine. Her hands cup my breasts and I gasp into her mouth. "I'm sorry I didn't notice before …"

This is my dreams amplified and multiplied and real and it's happening, Sam is kissing my neck and nibbling at the skin while her hands massage my breasts. I don't even know what to do, I don't know what else to do but lay there and marvel at this, but my body seems to have its own ideas because I'm pushing her back and sitting up, ripping off my shirt. Sam's eyes widen at my chest, meeting my eyes and grinning again as she pushes me back to the mattress and slips her hands under my back. I pant in her ear, her long hair falling over me like a thick, gold blanket and it's only the rush of cool air to my recently covered breasts that I realize my bra has been tossed to the floor.

Sam doesn't even pause, just lowers her head and hooks her lips to one and I gasp loudly, the warm, shocking sensation rolling hard through my body. I'm going to explode. I'm just going to burst into flames. She moves to the other one and then she makes this noise, this low growl-like sound and I'm about to die, I'm going to just die, and then she sits up and she's yanking off her shirt. I sit up and take the opportunity to try and gain some control, to do something but drown in pleasure, and I have her bra unhooked so fast even I'm impressed with my skill. Thinking about this for so long has apparently prepared me.

Sam's boobs are even better than I imagined. We used to change in front of each other when we were kids, but that was before I became so sexually frustrated. They are full and perfect, a little paler than the rest of her, but that just makes me feel like I'm the first to touch them. Like they're mine. And that sounds weird and kind of creepy, but I don't care, this is my Sam. I grip both of them and she moans and God, that sound that vibrates through her chest is enough to make me dizzy and I realize I'm not breathing at all, really, and I take a moment to steady myself and absorb all of this.

Except, then, Sam rolls her hips in a certain way that makes my bones melt.

I fall against the bed again and she keeps rolling her hips and I grip the sheets and now she's really paying attention, because she does it a few more times and somewhere in my moans is her name. She kisses my sternum and breathes over my shuddering stomach before she hovers over my pants. She doesn't stop to tease very long, just curls her fingers over my sweatpants and tears them off, panties and all.

And I'm naked, I'm bare and naked and I thought that if this were to ever happen, I'd be self-conscious about something stupid, like how my vagina looks, but I don't, and really, none of that matters. What matters is that it's there and Sam's face is there and she glances up at me, panting, and her hot breath washes over me and my thighs are melting.

"I've never done this before," she says, and when I glance down she looks almost scared, intimidated, but I just shake my head at her and try to put a sentence together.

"It's okay." That's all I can really say, my brain has pretty much detached itself from the rest of me, and then Sam nods and kisses one thigh and then the other. I'm shaking, holding the sheets with my curled fingers, and she's working her way closer and closer, moving agonizingly slowly. She kisses each lip before slipping a finger inside of me and I'm so wet it's a freaking Slip N' Slide in there. I release a string of moans and groans and I'm shifting my hips to try and do something but lay there, and then Sam's lips wrap around my clit.

I swear I saw God. I don't know how long it lasted, I don't know how long she was done there licking and sucking and pushing her fingers in and out of me, but it was an eternity of pleasure to me and yet, when it was over, when I came screaming her name and bucking my hips all over the place, it was like a second had passed. I come more than once, and at one point she has to pin my thighs to the bed to keep them from flying off. And I'm panting, sweating, trying to grasp to something rational and then Sam's face hovers over mine. Her breathing is heavy but she's grinning at me, cocky, smug, her fingers walking up my torso.

"I take it that was good," she whispers and I smile dreamily at her, hooking my arms around her neck and tugging her down.

"Oh yeah," I manage, rolling her over and kissing her as her back meets the mattress. "I bet I can do better."

Sam laughs, flicking her tongue to graze over my bottom lip before falling casually on the pillow. "Prove it."

I laugh weakly and kiss her again and it's like we've been kissing for years, the way our tongues move around each others' and our lips fit so perfectly. Cliché, sure, but true. I stop at her neck for a long time, leaving a trail of hickies, letting my nails drag over the sweating flesh of her back. She hisses, moans, and makes a sound akin to a whimper that almost drives me insane and then I move south. I like teasing her, considering it punishment for her making me wait so long for this. I nip at each nipple, then nurse it as an apology, only to do it again, and then I slip a hand into her pants and she's hot and wet and I circle a finger around her clit which makes her entire body shudder, her hands curled into fists at her sides.

I move slowly, licking her naval, kissing each hip, pulling her pants down with my teeth. When she's in just her panties, I take a moment to look at her, to really look at her, and it hits me all at once that Sam is naked in my bed and I'm having sex with her.

This is so much better than porn.

"Carly," she pants, watching me expectantly, and then I grin at her, finally taking the elastic of her panties in my fingers and pulling them slowly down her legs. She's all wetness and blonde hair and I'm all out of patience, I can't tease her anymore, I just dive in like it's a fucking buffet. I'm teasing her with my fingers, licking and sucking like I was built to do this for her, and she's crying out, squirming, and my name is in there somewhere and then she comes with one loud gasp and I don't stop until she comes again, and again, and I would keep going if Sam didn't grab my face and tug me up and kiss me like she's hungry for me.

It's almost an hour later when we're finally so exhausted we can hardly move. I'm draped over her stomach, her hand threading through my hair and I'm just stuck in awe.

"Hey, Carls." I feel her chest heave in laughter and I lift my head to watch her, face flushed, blue eyes glowing. "Guess what?"

I grin, turning to kiss her stomach before answering. "What?"

"You will never have to masturbate again."


End file.
